


Where to go to get back home

by hamjay



Category: Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), DCU (Comics), Outsiders (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Language, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, tag and rating will be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamjay/pseuds/hamjay
Summary: After the events of Under the Red Hood, Jason’s in bad shape and decides to get out of Gotham. He’s feeling so estranged, in fact, that he leaves the whole country behind and flees to Europe. Instead of finding a quiet place to recover, Jason gets a huge target on his back when the Russian mob puts a price on his head. Hitmen, mercenaries, and assassins all come out of the woodwork to claim the cash.Roy, on a sabbatical after being shot in the chest and brushing with death, gets a call from Dick. Scared that he’s going to lose his brother before he even gets him back, Dick asks for a personal favor->> Track Jason down and keep him alive.It turns out to be everything Roy needs to feel like himself again.-A spirited JayRoy jaunt through Europe, with thrilling narrow escapes, disaster, new and old wounds, and sweet steamy romance, awaits you.
Relationships: Lian Harper & Roy Harper, Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Comments: 16
Kudos: 73





	Where to go to get back home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Shenanigans and Kiseia for beta  
> Thank you to Deadships for helping me write Navajo Roy rep.  
> Diné Bizaad translations in End Notes
> 
> Canon is a game and we're winning.

In the bustle of Gotham central station, Dick can’t believe his eyes. He can’t believe he even recognizes Jason through the crowd at all since he’s so _grown_ now. Jason’s pummeled him enough times since his return to Gotham City to know that. But this man is still not how he remembers Jason- _Jay_. He was a squirt of a kid, scrappy, mouthy, and barely rising to Dick’s chest. Now he’s got broad shoulders and a mug that could charm the pants off anybody. That is, Dick thinks, if only Jason would care to smile.

Dick hates that his first instinct is to brace up. The reaction is certainly warranted because all they’ve done since Jason’s return is fight. It saddens Dick anyway even as he wonders: Is Jason planning something? Are the people here in some kind of danger? Someone nearly bumps into Dick and he realizes that he’s stopped directly in the flow of foot traffic. 

“Sorry, excuse me,” Dick says and shuffles out of the way, closer to the ticket counter where his brother is talking with the clerk through the window. Jason heaves a duffle bag over his shoulder when he’s done, and Dick follows at a distance as he goes down the escalator to the lower levels. Dick, maybe ten steps behind Jason, is boring holes into the back of his head with how intensely he’s watching. He inspects the black curls at the nape of Jason’s neck; he watches the way Jason settles one thick knuckled hand on the railing to keep steady. He notes how still Jason can be as he waits to descend with the crowd. 

After the escalator, Dick follows Jason through the breezy brick underground hallways. As they walk, Dick starts to detect a slight shuffle in Jason’s step. He’s limping.

At the final platform, Jason stands and waits. Dick makes sure he’s keeping some distance, but steps up to the yellow line and looks to the side to catch sight of Jason’s face again.

He’s not expecting the stubble; Jason’s a man now. What else has Dick missed out on?

Seeing nothing more suspicious than that, Dick makes up his mind to approach, heart beating against his ribs and feeling slightly sick with anticipation. He shuffles through the waiting crowd until he can stand beside Jason. They both stare across the tracks at the advertisements on the opposite wall. It feels like he could wait forever for Jason to say something. Dick glances up at the platform sign. 

“Airport? You’re going to the airport?” Dick says, surprised and unable to keep his mouth shut.

The way Jason flinches and snaps his chin to look at Dick betrays the truth, that Jason hadn’t known it was Dick standing beside him. One good look at Jason reveals why- he’s battered and exhausted. He’s off his game. Jason’s eyes have dark purple circles underneath them and his expression is grim looking. 

“God, you look like shit,” Dick blurts out. From afar Jason is a dashing rogue, but up close he looks like death warmed over. There are week-old bruises, yellow and green, on one temple and the opposite side of his jaw. 

Something about that comment draws a snort out of Jason who looks away and across the tracks again. “Yeah. That’ll happen to a guy. You tailing me, Dickie?” he asks.

“Not exactly. I recognized you back up at street level. Wasn’t sure what you were up to. Can you blame me?” Dick’s astonished that they’re even carrying a conversation, but he worries the civility won’t last much longer, so he takes what moments with Jason he can have. It’s like a strange dream, to have him here without the helmet or mask. He’s just a man.

Jason shrugs. “Not really, but don’t worry your pretty self too much, okay? I’m leaving.” He glances at the sign that confirms this train will take him to the airport like a nervous tic. The duffel carries everything he needs to flee the damn country.

The surprises never end for Dick. Red Hood had seemed pretty hell bent on tearing up the city. It didn’t seem like Jason would ever stop his crusade, not until the place was pulverized under his self righteous fist. “You’re leaving Gotham?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to miss me,” Jason says bitterly. 

“I will. I’ve _been_ missing you, Jay.” 

Jason shifts uncomfortably and Dick, for all he wants to shake Jason by the shoulders until he _understands_ , reels it in again. 

They stare across the tracks at the colorful advertisements there. ‘Get _your_ Summer body, now! At Jenny’s Gym!’ What a stupid fucking thing to make people worry about, when there’s wars being fought in their own proverbial backyard every god-forsaken night.

“You tailin’ me or something?” Jason asks suspiciously, breaking the silence. He’s watching Dick from the corner of his eye.

Dick opens his mouth to say something about Jason repeating himself, when a little bell starts going off in his mind. This is familiar. Something about this is really fucking familiar.

A memory of Jason, teenaged and frustrated, comes to mind. He’s repeating himself and getting embarrassed when Dick tells him so. It wasn’t all the time, but if Jason was ever particularly upset he tended to have bouts of short term memory loss. They rolled with it, but it was only ever annoying because Dick needed something to needle Bruce about back then. 

Dick shakes his head and tries to roll with it now. “I’m meeting a friend in a little while. Just...happened to recognize you upstairs. Couldn’t seem to let you go without saying goodbye, I guess.”

“You’re fucking weird,” Jason scoffs. “‘Goodbye’? Like we’re a normal family. Great, yeah. Bye,” Jason says as, heaven sent, the lights of the train cut towards them from the tunnel. He shoulders his duffel bag more securely.

The train pulls up and city folk stream off around them. Jason steps into the space they create and doesn’t look back. Dick stays there watching. He sees, through the windows, Jason shuffle inside the car and pick a spot to stand and hold the overhead railing. Dick remembers Jason’s limp and wishes he had sat instead. The train pulls away.

Dick shoves his hands into his pockets. “Bye, Jay.”

It’s not long until Bruce notices that Jason’s left the city. Dick wants to say something; it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he pinches his lip between his teeth and keeps mum about seeing Jason heading to the airport. There’s plenty Bruce hasn’t shared with Dick about Jason’s return. So, Dick keeps this morsel to himself out of spite, and maybe out of hope, too. It’s been Hell here, and even though Jason caused it, Dick wants his brother to get out of it.

-

Roy feels his phone vibrating in the back pocket of his jeans before he hears the ring tone. He wipes finger paint off on the paper towel beside him and leans forward, fishing the phone out from under his butt. 

“Dickie,” he says in greeting, smiling as he pinches the phone between his shoulder and his bearded cheek. Roy’s already smiling, because he’s spending a delightful afternoon doing arts and crafts with Lian, but a call from his friend certainly doesn’t hurt his mood. “What’s up buddy?”

Absently, Roy picks up the paper towel and wipes it over his other hand, both cleaning and further smearing the green paint. Across the kitchen table, currently blanketed in newspapers, Lian shouts “Uncle Dick!” She slams her palms down and stands on the rung between the chair legs, leaning dangerously forward over her wonderful finger painting. “Dick! I want to say hi!” she demands.

Roy hears his friend give out a delighted snort. “Roy! Hi pal. You can stick me on speaker for a minute, let me say hi to the munchkin.” 

With the cleaner of his two hands, Roy sets the phone down in the middle of the table and selects the speaker phone with his paint-less knuckle. While Lian starts to tell Dick about her beautiful painting with _no_ preamble, Roy slides out of his chair and over to the sink so he can wash up his hands.

When Roy shuffles back, patting his hands dry on the thighs of his jeans, he notices tendrils of Lian’s black hair coming loose from her ponytail. It’s enough hair that she’ll want to push it back out of her face any minute, and in doing so, smear the paint on her hands all over the strands. Roy moves to stand behind Lian’s chair and gentles his clean hands across her temples, smoothing her hair back while sliding the hair tie off.

“That sounds like a lovely painting, Lian,” Dick says when she finishes giving him a detailed description of her hard work. “Is your dad going to hang it on the fridge when you’re done?”

“Are you?” Lian asks, turning her head to look at Roy who easily moves his hands with her, continuing to put her hair back in its place despite her fidgeting.

“Of course I am, _shíyazhí_. If I could put your painting in a museum, I would.” Roy wraps the hair tie a few times around her renewed ponytail then lovingly smooths the strands from her forehead back to the tie. He bends down and kisses her black glossy hair. “You’re my favorite artist.”

“Hey, Roy.” Dick’s got that tone that isn’t quite apologetic, more duty than apprehension. There’s something he wants to talk about. Roy knows this isn’t a social call; he knows Dick. “Think we can chat for a few minutes?” 

“Sure.” Then to Lian, as he squeezes her shoulder. “Are you finished with your painting?” 

The girl looks between Roy and her painting very pensively. “I’m done,” she decides. And, as if she were a distinguished critic, pinches her chin with thumb and forefinger, getting blue and yellow where her fingers rest. “Hang it up high on the ‘fridgerator, okay?” Lian hops down off of the chair and kicks the kitchen stool over to the sink so she can step up and wash her hands.

Roy shakes his head a little, smiling to himself, and carefully gathers up her painting. “You got a case for me?” he asks absently, setting it safely aside to dry. He folds up the paint-wet newspaper, used for mixing paints as well as spill control. “I have time tonight to look something over for you if you want.”

Dick, still on speaker phone, breaks his usual mission voice and gives a solemn grunt. “That’s not really why I called.” 

Roy stuffs the newspaper in the trash and ushers Lian in the direction of the living room. “Go watch your show and I’ll call you for dinner later, kay?” She bounces through the doorway, ponytail swaying. 

A heavy sigh heaves itself out of him when he sits down. Roy props his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands. The team is probably asking for him, asking Roy to come off his leave now that he’s back in good physical shape. Some of the anxiety is his own doing, unfairly judging himself for choosing light consultation duty instead of rejoining Dick in the field with the Outsiders. “Dude, my anxiety just spiked. What’s up?” he asks, urging Dick to spit it out already.

“Sorry,” Dick says right away, likely being reminded what kind of position his friend is in. They’ve talked about this so many times: how much Roy is willing to take on these days and what kind of boundaries he’s trying to maintain after a brush with death. “This is, uh.” His voice is wavering, making Roy pick his head back up. “I saw Jason a week ago.”

“Oh.” Roy lets his hands drop, drumming his fingers on the table top, curious. “Well yeah. Isn’t he raising hell over there?” Roy figured Dick was running into his little brother everywhere these days as Red Hood.

“I _saw_ him. Like, in civvies. No mask. He’s grown up.” Dick sounds shocked and wistful. 

“You doing okay?” Roy wonders. It’s been a wild ride for his friend, to say the least. 

“Yeah. Yeah, actually, I am. I’m just worried. I’m really worried.” Dick pauses before speaking again. “He looked really bad.”

“Bad in what way?”

“Um.” When Dick sighs it’s with the long suffering edge he reserves for Bruce. “Something happened a little while ago. Jason got a hold of the Joker and he lured Bruce into some kind of stand off.”

“What happened?”

“That’s what I want to know! Bruce really clammed up about it. He’s somehow gotten _worse_.”

“I didn’t know Bruce could get much worse than he was,” Roy blurts out.

“Yeah, you’d think that. Well, _something_ happened, because Bruce is acting really fucking disturbed and he won’t tell me anything . He just says that Jason wanted the Joker dead and then he blew up the top three floors of the building. Like, no. No, that can’t just be _it_ . You don’t just come back from a soiree with the Joker and your undead murdered son with less than ten words to explain it all, _God_!” Roy’s listened to these rants about Bruce for who knows how many years and he’ll listen to this one too, because Dick is his friend. The bitching continues for a minute until Dick has some of it out of his system.

“So, what happened with Jason?” Roy encourages when Dick is reduced to a simmer. “You said you saw him?”

“Yeah, I saw him. It was so fucking weird. I haven’t- I hadn’t even seen his face yet-” Dick gets a little choked up and Roy presses his lips into a neutral kind of frown. He can imagine the way Dick emotes with his hands in front of his chest when he’s upset, close and tucked in. 

“Hey,” Roy says softly. His finger picks at the seam of the phone case on the table in front of him, wishing he could throw an arm around Dick’s shoulders. Roy’s heart breaks for him, it really does. “Dick. You...recognized him. You _did_ see his face. Dick, you never thought you’d see it again. But you saw him. Isn’t that a little miracle?” Roy can just imagine the way Dick tilts his head back and blinks as fast as he can to keep unshed tears from falling, bottom lip jutting out. 

Finally, a shuddered sigh comes across the line. Maybe Roy’s thinking about his own little miracles lately. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is. I was getting on the subway and just, out of the blue I spotted him. I tried not to be a total creep, but I followed him. I don’t know! I was worried and I thought maybe he was up to something.”

“Totally reasonable.”

“Right? So, I followed him. But, like-he was just getting on a train to the airport. That’s all. And I talked to him. He looked like shit. Maybe from the explosion or _what_ , I don’t know. Jason was saying how he was just, like, splitting town. I couldn’t believe it. What would make him just up and leave after all he’s done? I have no clue because Bruce won’t fucking tell me!”

“Did you ask Jason?”

“No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t say much, really. Being with him, like that, without that stupid helmet. Just like two normal people standing there waiting for a train. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted…” A wistful sigh. “I wanted him to leave. It’s too much here. For him, I mean. I thought, yeah. Get away from Bruce, and whatever the hell happened with him.”

“It’s okay. Um. Little steps. Right?”

“So, this week I found out that Jason left the country. He’s in Europe.” 

Now, Roy realizes that all of this is just context for the reason Dick called. “How do you know that? Is he causing trouble over there?”

“Oracle called to tell me that some big shot...this mob guy, Ven Noga, put a hit out on Jason. I don’t know what for. Jason’s got some kind of reputation we didn’t know about. That’s what Oracle’s extrapolated, at least.”

“How much for his head?” 

“It’s a lot. 1.5 million. In assets, or cash, or what, I don’t know how Noga is paying it out. And Roy, ” Dick sounds scared, and rightfully so. “It's an open contract.”

The hairs on the back of Roy’s neck are standing on end. He rubs his palm against them. “That’s a huge score. Guys will be coming out of the woodwork to nab it.”

“It’s not good.”

Roy’s mouth twists in thought. He wants to be realistic about this. “Jason seems pretty capable. Especially after seeing all the stunts he pulled in your neck of the woods.”

“But he’s hurt. Something’s not right with him. _Especially_ after his stunts in Gotham. If he was fresh, maybe this wouldn’t be a big deal! And maybe we’d be trying to wrangle him in for all the damage he could do.”

“We?”

“But he’s not fresh. And I’m honestly really worried, Roy. I don’t know if he can get out of this, not after the shit that went down over here, in Gotham.”

“Dick, what do you…?”

“I’m scared Jason’s going to get killed and that I won’t see him again. But he made it clear he doesn’t want me following him. If he saw me, Jason would turn tail and run. So, I’m asking you-”

Roy palms his face.

“-to go to Europe and keep my brother alive.”

After a long sigh, Roy straightens up and twists in the chair so he can look back through the doorway of the kitchen to the living room. His view isn’t great, but he can see Lian’s socked feet hanging off the couch, swinging a little as she watches TV. It’s what he always does when he has to weigh things, looks to his daughter.

Lately, Roy’s been weighing his need for _time_ against his desire to return to the field. He’s weighing his wish for patience with the tens of voices asking for him to shoulder the mission again. Dick’s been more patient than the others, and he knows Roy the best. He’s let Roy extend his leave without pressuring him too much for an answer about retirement while staying honest with him. Dick wants him to heal and be whole, for all their sakes. He wants him to heal for Lian’s sake. Dick understands that Roy loves this work and that he’s good at it. He’s been very accommodating by giving Roy light consultation duty for the last three months.

“Roy? Are you still there?” Dick sounds nervous. 

“Yeah. I’m here,” he answers, maybe a little reluctantly. Roy turns forward in his chair. “Dick, look. I’m really not ready to get on a mission right now.”

“I know. And that’s not what I’m asking. This isn’t the team, the Outsiders, the Titans… This isn’t a job I can ask Helena to do. I need _you_ , Roy. You’re the only one I trust with this. It’s you and no one else.” Roy thinks that maybe his friend is laying it on a little thick, but lets him continue. “Besides, I don’t think Jason will like my helping him too much. He’s pummelled me plenty over the last couple months.”

“What makes you think he’ll be happy to see me? Especially on your behalf?”

Roy can hear Dick roll his eyes and catch his lip on the point of a tooth, or at least sees it in his mind. “I dunno, bud. Maybe because you have the charm and charisma?” Roy could snort because usually that’s how people talk about _Dick_. “Really Roy, don’t sell yourself short. You’re incredible on a team. You think fast; you’re an accomplished mentor and an awesome brother...need I go on?”

“Flattery will get you-”

“-everywhere, I know. I need to see my brother again, Roy. I can’t lose him. Not this time. And I’m asking _you_ because you’re the only one who might be able to pull it off for me. Not for a team or some government bull. For me. I need my brother back so I can have at least a chance to make things right with us.”

The reflex to say _no_ is strong. Roy’s biting his cheek around the word, remembering how Dick had been inconsolable for months after learning Jason had died.After the shooting and the surgeries and the bed rest, Roy had been that way himself. It’s this wish, for his friend not to hurt that way again, that keeps Roy from declining straight away.

And it’s the memory of a kid, smart and funny. Roy would admit he didn’t know Jason well, and he’d had a lot on his mind when Robin did his moonlighting with the Titans. Roy had found out he was a father, for crying out loud. But damn it all if Roy didn’t remember how deeply aware Jason had been of his place in the world. “I’m Robin, but I’m not Dick,” he told Donna, clearly, when she’d been at the end of her golden rope. Jason had given their missions his all, to show them just how much he was _himself_ . Jason wanted so badly for someone to see what _giving his all_ even looked like.

“Can I think about it?” Roy asks, but he already knows time is running out for Jason every day that he’s alone. “Give me until tomorrow.” He’s riding a wave and only just now realizing that he’s in the water. “I’ll call you in the morning. I need to wrap my head around this.”

“Okay,” Dick says like he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding. “Okay. I’ll send you the info Oracle put together.” It’s not a case Dick wants him to consult on or a field review or a mission report. It’s Dick’s brother; it’s Jason. Roy, for the millionth time, finds himself with his palm on his chest and his thumb rubbing at a coin sized scar through his shirt.

They say a brief goodbye so that Roy can get to work. But first he gets up and walks to the couch. He sits and wraps his arms around Lian, pulling her to his side and resting his cheek on her head. 

“Daddy,” she groans, because he’s disturbing her show time. Regardless of his loving interruption, Lian finds a way to cushion her chin on his bicep and keep watching her cartoons.

Roy holds her and just thinks and thinks and thinks. He thinks until Lian says she’s hungry and he has to fix dinner. The finger painting is dry by now so they hang it by a magnet together. After dinner he prepares Lian’s bag for her school day tomorrow and puts her to bed. Roy pauses in her doorway, watching her climb under the blankets. “Goodnight _shíawéé_. Sweet dreams,” he says and when Lian yawns “goodnight daddy.” Roy feels worlds better. She snuggles in and he flips off the light and closes the door. 

Roy sits down and flicks open his laptop to access the secure files Dick had sent him. The light off the screen makes his face glow in the dark kitchen. He goes straight away to the open hit contract. There’s nothing here tying it to Noga but Roy assumes that Oracle’s expanded that information elsewhere in the file. It’s a lot of money and a high price for someone’s head; Roy hasn’t seen a call like this for a while. 

There are a couple photos of Jason. Two are grainy and likely swiped off security cameras. The third is better, and Roy can actually see his face and _tell_ that it’s Jason. In the photo he’s standing on a bridge, back to the stone carved railing, and very obviously ignoring the British constable next to him. Roy thinks he recognizes that bridge from a mission in London. 

It’s unclear whether this photo is recent or old. However, it’s a photo of Jason, so Roy will take what he can get.

“Well, look at you now, kid.” It checks out. Same black hair, if a bit shaggy. Dick was right, Jason had grown up without them. He’s stubbled and smug and his shoulders have grown into the shape of a man’s, and his training is unmistakable even through a photo.

Roy moves on to the information on Venjamin Noga. Noga is Russian mob and gets his money from drugs, weapons trafficking, ransoms, blackmail, and fraud. Jason blundered a terror plot in London a year ago that Noga had really liked. Roy could guess it’s not the only thing Jason’s done to piss off the boss, but the bombing is all Oracle can officially pin on him.

Rubbing his palm in circles over his chest, Roy leans back in the chair and sighs through his nose. There are a few reasons he wants to tell Dick _no_. 

For one, Dick’s asking him to go straight into the fire with Jason. For all Dick making it personal, it really is active duty again, and Roy has been resisting returning despite being back in physical shape. They’ve been working on the trauma, that hitch that freezes Roy’s blood when faced with a gun. With help, Roy’s making huge progress and probably could return to the team in a few months.

The question is does he want to? Dick said, if anyone had earned retirement, it would be Roy. He’s got Lian to look after, and a brush with death like this is reasonable enough cause to take off the mask. Roy’s not trying to die on the job. He’s not a martyr. He wants to keep living and come home every time to his baby girl. Roy wants to see Lian grow up. 

Isn’t that what Dick wants, too? Dick doesn’t want to miss another moment of Jason’s life. And for all his roughness, Jason deserves to retire as well, maybe more than Roy does. The poor kid was _murdered_ and had his life stolen. Of course Jason would be disturbed after something like that. Not that Roy’s condoning some of the things he’s heard Red Hood get up to in Gotham, but Roy’s heart certainly aches for him. Jason deserves to come home and heal, too.

Roy rubs his face. He finishes checking the folders then closes the laptop and heads to bed so he can lay awake, still weighing it all out.

Roy doesn’t want to go back to the field. 

Dick isn’t asking Roy to bring Arsenal out again. Dick is asking his _friend_ to help him keep his brother alive, because, and Dick was right about this, out of all the people Dick could have asked, Roy is the only one who has a chance. He won’t have to just keep Jason from getting killed, he’ll have to deal _with_ Jason. Roy has worked a lot of different teams with a lot of strong personalities. He’s a mentor and a leader and the best equipped to wrangle in difficult cases. Vigilantes aren’t exactly known for their emotional stability, so Roy has run collateral many times. 

Roy’s skilled. For all his apprehension about getting into a gun fight, he’ll hold his own and, hopefully, keep things under wraps. He’ll be on damage control again, trying to keep all of Europe from getting flattened in the fray. 

Europe. _God_. The only place Roy has been for the last eight months is New York, close enough to train with Dick and the team, but keeping to himself at home close to Lian while he gets on his feet again. 

Roy rolls onto his back and scrubs his fingers through his hair. It’s getting long again. The beard is coming back in. It’s depression, he _knows_. Everybody knows. 

It’s hard to be kind to himself some days. It’s hard to take his mind off of the five holes in his chest and the pink shiny scar down his sternum. Roy lifts his hand up to touch it but it hovers above his chest. Then he reaches past his chest and to his other arm so he can rest his palm around the tattoo band on his bicep, closing his eyes and letting it steady him. It’s worlds better than rubbing at his chest for the hundredth time that day, or scratching inside his elbows.

Maybe getting out of town is what he needs. Roy could use a little change of perspective. It’s frustrating to be close to the team headquarters but to be apart from them in every other way. They want him back as soon as possible and Roy wants _time_ to process his new perspectives on his fragile fucking life. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little resentful of the pressure. 

A solo job is good for shaking things up. Things are clearer when it’s just him and maybe one other person. He knows his own skill set, he knows his tools, knows his limits. And Roy, though he wishes he were the same as before he was shot, would really like to know what the hell his new limits are before putting his teammates at risk. 

It’s starting to look more and more like this is what Roy needs. 

In the morning, waiting for the bus with Lian, Roy squeezes her hand. “Hey, honey?”

Lian tilts her face up from where she was playing with her jacket zipper, talking about what game she’s going to play on the playground with her friends today. “Yeah, Daddy?”

Roy has to pause, just looking at her face. Lian’s nose is pink from the late spring chill that hasn’t left New York. Her bangs are getting long again, tripping over her eyebrows to tickle her eyelashes. Roy brings his other hand up and brushes the black hair away. 

“Daddy, you’re doing it again.”

“I am?” Roy says coyly, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the head. “Well, I do it because I love you and you’re really special to me.” It’s not like Roy never used to do that, pause and just look at her, wishing he’d always remember every minute with her, but he does it more now. “Looking at you makes me happy.”

Lian accepts his kiss as penance for the crime of gazing upon her cute face for ten seconds too long. 

“Honey, you know how I’ve been training so I can go back to working in the field?”

“Are you going to be on your team again?” Lian asks. She twists her mouth, looking him up and down. “Are you ready to do that?” 

Roy’s brows twitch upward and he crouches in front of her so they are the same height. “Not yet, but I’ve got a job lined up that’s gonna help me get there,” he explains. “It’s more like a job with a friend, see. He’s in some trouble and needs backup. Pretty straightforward stuff, but if I do this job, it means I have to leave town. It could take a few weeks,” he estimates, giving himself some generous wiggle room. “I really liked being at home with you while I was healing up.” Roy pats his chest casually. He knows it’s been hard on Lian, just as it has for him. “Are you ready for me to go back to work?”

“You’ve been talking about going back to work forever,” Lian groans. Her bangs are falling in her eyes again and she flicks her head to get them aside. “You always tell me how good it feels to help people, so I think if you go help your friend, you’ll feel better.” 

“When did you get so wise?” he wonders, gently bumping their foreheads. Roy knows Lian has always had this thread within her. Roy wraps his arms around her, folding her into a big hug. “I’ll have to leave soon, before my friend gets in more trouble.”

“I have to say goodbye to you now?” Lian realizes and clings to him a little tighter, burrowing into the chest of Roy’s soft pullover. 

“Yes, but I’m gonna call you every night. It’ll be like before when I had missions, remember?” Lian nods, chewing her lip. “You’ll still get visits from Dinah and uncle Dickie.” Her pout is enough to move his world and Roy nearly calls it all off at that moment. Is she scared he might have another complication? One that will put him down like the last time? 

“Lian, I want to do this little mission because it’s going to tell me more about if I want to go back to working full time in the field. If I try this and I don’t like it, then I won’t do more missions. Or I might feel really good about it and decide to go back to work. I won’t know more if I don’t try this. Does that make sense? Don’t I ask you to try things to see if you’ll like them or not?” Lian straightens up and nods and he gives her an encouraging smile. “I can’t wait to tell you all about it. You’ll be the first to know what I decide when it’s all said and done. Okay? Because you’re my number one, Princess.” Roy smooths her bangs out of her face and cups her cheek once more like it’s home.

“Okay, Daddy.” She sounds so much more confident now that he’s explained it like an adult. Roy sometimes wishes his baby would never grow up, but she is brilliant. 

In a flash, Lian’s hand reaches out and touches his chest. She’s not reaching for his scars. “Show me your _cheii_.”

Roy rocks back on his heels so he can reach between them and pluck at the thin silver snake chain around his neck. The necklace comes sliding out from under his sweater and shirt until the pendants are free. Lian cups them gently in her hand. Roy watches her face while Lian studies the arrowhead and silver horny toad that hangs with it. Lian folds her thumb in and pets down the toad's bumpy cheek. 

Lian brings Cheii close to her mouth and whispers. Roy can hear her asking him to keep her dad safe and it sends a chill down his spine. He _does_ feel stronger, but after being with Lian so much during recovery, he’s going to miss her like crazy now. 

Roy takes her hand and the pendants slide out and down to hang against his chest. He makes sure she’s watching when he kisses her palm. Lian doesn’t even wait for her dad to fold her fingers closed and immediately presses her palm over her heart. 

The bus lurches to a stop at their block and Lian crashes against Roy’s chest where he hugs her tight and secure. “I love you, _shash yazhí_. I’ll see you soon.” 

Lian pulls away enough to tilt her face up and look at him, nodding seriously. “See you soon,” she repeats. Then Lian tears away from him and sprints down the sidewalk to the bus. Her backpack bounces and her ponytail whips behind her. 

Roy stands up and shoves one hand in his pocket, leaving the other free to wave at her as the bus rolls by. Lian had shoved her way into a window seat so she could wave back. 

There are calls to make. Firstly, Lian’s nanny. Then Dick. 

The relief is palpable. Roy wants to hug him and promise it’ll be okay. Dick’s not going to lose his brother again, not if Roy can help it. 

He packs carefully. There’s no time for a haircut, but Roy feels refreshed after he takes a good shower and shaves the beard off. He shoves a pack of Lian’s hair ties in his bag and leaves one around his wrist in case the long red hair gets too bothersome while he’s travelling. As he shuts off the lights in the house Roy pauses in the kitchen. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of Lian's painting in a moment of inspiration. Then he locks up the house on his way out.

According to Oracle’s notes, Jason was last seen 24 hours ago in Paris. That’s where Roy plans to start his search for the guy. This isn’t a hero gig, he keeps reminding himself. This is personal, for his friend, for a wayward son. 

At the end of the day, he’s watching the sunset from the window of a private charter flight Dick arranged for. The Atlantic is a dark and liminal crossing. Roy tucks himself into his seat and does his best to catch some shut-eye knowing he’ll need his rest.

It already feels good, taking this shape, setting his mind on the target and inhaling, articulating the muscle of his spirit into the perfect form. Before he lets loose, Roy already knows he’s going to make a bullseye. What happens between the string and the target? 

Well, it should just be air, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Shíyazhí - my child  
> Shíawéé - my baby  
> Shash yazhí - baby/little bear  
> This chapter has fan art, on my tumblr https://hamjay.tumblr.com/post/632517704500314112/well-look-at-you-now-kid


End file.
